


A Fight to Break You

by Katapultman



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Blood and Violence, Bullying, Character Development, Drama, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fights, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Introspection, Mild Language, Oneshot, Pain, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-08
Updated: 2020-03-08
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:35:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23071804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katapultman/pseuds/Katapultman
Summary: Dipper Pines was never one to stand up for himself, especially when it came to bullies. But if there’s one factor which could influence that, it’s having his sister mixed up in his escapades. And that’s when a seemingly normal day became something much more serious for the teen…Disclaimer: Trigger warning, slight usage of foul language, various descriptions of violent scenes, and purposeful historical inaccuracies. Gravity Falls belongs to Alex Hirsch.
Relationships: Dipper Pines & Mabel Pines
Comments: 4
Kudos: 40





	A Fight to Break You

Dipper Pines, like any kid his age, was never fond of being bullied - whether it was in school by his rambunctious classmates, or by his mean-spirited peers from the neighbourhood (which, thankfully, he seldom encountered) - such delinquents with no better calling than to hinder even the most normal facets of his daily life often served to spark his ire.

Though Dipper never let emotion overcome his judgement in such dreary circumstances (because he knew he would get in far more trouble than his supposed assailants; thus was the organisation of their administrative unit), he still did not utterly surrender himself to the woes of his tormentors. In more mild situations, after being put down, he usually glared at his attackers with a venom so harrowing it'd have sent a chill down anyone’s spine; in more dire conditions, however, he often deigned to even forward light resistance against the bullies (resistance which was almost always met with more retaliation on their part). After each attack, the boy would always come out relatively scathed and bruised, yet he always got up after the aggressors had their fun - no matter if it was from the school floor, the dirt, mud, or snow - he never stayed down. 

But he never truly fought back, either.

The only thing which really hinged Dipper on the verge of falling off the terrible cliff of his mental well-being and descending into total madness was the light which shone through the darkness of his life. Because each time he came back home after such an occurrence had struck, his sister was there to patch him up (and scold him over his stoic actions). He never cared for Mabel’s reprimands - Dipper was just so, so happy when he was with her. She made him feel valued and appreciated; and like the placid calm after a bad dream, Mabel was an inexplicably welcome surge of hope for Dipper - she was his own weird, endlessly benevolent twin, his own weird, endlessly benevolent other half. And somehow, Mabel always had him up and running before their parents got home and any suspicion could be elicited from his wounds. Dipper never knew how she did it and always struggled to find the words with which to relay his gratitude for the endless devotion Mabel had for him.

Theirs quickly became a common practice: one is the recipient of verbal and physical abuse and comes back a hollow husk of what he had been the morning prior, while the other covers it up as best she could, sacrificing her own time and effort to stand alone against a peril so seemingly avoidable; and they do it all again the next day. Thus was the routine which eventually served to break the confidence and resolve of a prepubescent Dipper.

This inadvertently caused large parts of middle school and, as of recent, eighth grade, to feel like a blur for Dipper; a time of just barely existing, not living. Although the mystical and rough locale of Gravity Falls - where he and Mabel had stayed for the Summer preceding the school year - had matured and toughened the teen, he still wasn’t at a point wherein he could truly stand up to his old nemeses. The scars they’d forged ran deep, and every time Dipper saw them, he felt that scared little tween emerge from the depths of his supposedly hardened soul. That spectre of his personality always took over and haunted his rationale, restraining him from any decisive action and turning the present back to the dreadful theatre which was middle school for the boy.

So even after all that time, even after displaying an inhuman amount of courage and bravery in the face of the literal _apocalypse,_ even after seeing that he wasn’t just a weak little wimp, thirteen-year-old Dipper Pines acted like someone no one - not his parents, his great-uncles (especially Stanley, who had taught him the left hook), his sister, or, most importantly, he himself - could be proud of.

Bullies were still the scourge of the teen's life, and his conditioning kept him trapped in a cage like no other. 

But he sure wouldn’t have been so dismissive if such a circumstance ever befell his sister.

* * *

The seventeenth of June was a relatively calm and orderly Friday to begin with. Mabel was fervently counting down the days until eighth grade would come to a fruitful end and when her and her brother’s annual departure for Gravity Falls would finally dawn; the only thoughts on her mind related to what possibilities lay in the future - how many friends she’d get to reunite with (along with how many more she’d surely make), the superfluous number of new souvenirs and trinkets she was bound to collect for her second edition of ‘Mabel’s Summer Scrapbook,’ and, of course, the endless possibilities for more long-lasting summer romances. Much to her delight, she had received word via letter from her great-uncles (yes, actual letter; from what Mabel had heard, Stan had trouble setting up any technology for them to communicate with and this was the next best thing) which detailed the serendipitous day they would return to the small town from their lengthy excursion to the icy depths of the world - it was exactly when she and Dipper would arrive. Mabel had also received news of Soos’s monetary success after becoming the new proprietor of the shack and of his engagement to Melody, the latter revelation greatly tugging at the girl’s heartstrings (especially when she found out the wedding had been scheduled for their arrival as well).

It was set up to be a truly great Summer.

But that was then.

Now, first period encompassed a dreadfully boring History recap on the Civil War in which Mabel could really only interpret the talks of sophistication from her teacher as an endless stream of rigmarole destined to bore her to death. Being locked inside a scalding room with fifteen other people bearing the same disdain for the subject matter being taught was really, really not on the girl’s priority list. Unfortunately, she and her twin shared different classes, which meant she couldn't suffuse her boredom through childish antics with a like-minded person. Breathing a sigh, Mabel looked down at her notebook - it bore the same indelible drawings which would’ve dressed any disinterested student’s own; it had everything: caricatures of ex-boyfriends (both ones she did and didn’t hate), portrayals of fantastical creatures from Gravity Falls, pristine illustrations of boy bands she had ogled over; yes, everything except notes, as was expected.

There was really nothing to do now except wait.

“So, Mabel?” the teacher asked, snapping her from her stupor. “What’s the answer?”

Of course.

No doubt per her luck, Mabel had to be chosen for a question - especially now, when she was paying even less attention than usual. All eyes were set on her in the wake of an answer.

“Uh...” she trailed off, fumbling with her brunette bangs. “Could you please repeat the question, Mr. French?”

The tutor sighed in exasperation, reiterating, “Which battle and tactic was the reason for Confederate general Thomas Jackson’s famous nickname ‘Stonewall’?”

To say she had no idea was not an overstatement (and this had been one of the easier questions, she recalled). So, Mabel tried the tactic every desperate pupil in her position resorted to: blind reasoning. She wondered how such a name might fit into the context of the war - who knew, maybe the circumstances alluded to the battle being in Gravity Falls, thought Mabel. She wasn’t sure at all, considering that one of the few subpar grades she had earned that year was in History.

“Ah, yes, well, the battle was incredible! And the general, he… uh, thankfully had a stone wall to hide his troops behind from the, um, Union attack!” Quickly, her abstruse stream of reasoning was the result of many snickers and facepalms from her peers; her muscles tensed up. “Or… or he probably _didn’t_ have that, but his ‘Stonewall’ manners were enough to scare the enemy away and win the battle!”

Mr French frowned and raised a hand, silencing the students’ reactions. “Lucky for you, missy, report cards are already in.” He crossed his arms. “Which means I can’t fail you on that.”

Mabel let out a nervous laugh and muttered under her breath, “Yeah, good thing...”

Mr French sighed, but before he could continue on with his lecture, the school bell sounded in the depths of the hallway, reaching all the students’ ears and their pleas for a reprieve.

The historian cleared his throat, saying in a raised tone, “That’s for the year, but I want the reports on the Civil War on my desk by next year!”

Finally, the breeze of recess came and Mabel (despite her bout of shorthand embarrassment) felt a wave of catharsis flush over her. Only a few more painful overdue exams had to tick away before she would be free from the beleaguering prison which was school (at that point, she didn’t even care what grades she was to receive; she just wanted it to be over). Nevertheless, Mabel quickly stuffed her belongings in the recesses of her green backpack - an almost amiable eagerness in her movements - and headed for the exit where her classmates had gathered. After a sizable portion of the class had more or less dispersed into the borders of the locker hall, she made her way outside, ready to reconvene with her other friends with the time she had left before second period was to dawn.

She headed out through the corridor, whistle in walk and in admiration of the school setting (it was beautiful, if not that effective at encouraging academic interest). Yet her delicate observations were sidelined by a particularly suspicious and familiar group which caught her attention as she neared earshot distance. Raising an eyebrow, she listened in closely while keeping her distance.

“Hey, what can I say,” a certain teen surrounded by a certain group of acquiescent underlings began. “Guess bein’ stupid just runs in the Pines.” Mabel tried to ignore the remarks, biting her lip and continuing forward; they were no doubt talking about her weird claims during History class. Unfortunately for her, the harasser’s eyes set on the teen. “Ain’t that right, Mabel?” He let out a boisterous laugh, followed by several more from his lackeys of smaller stature. The girl’s frown only deepened - she just wanted to get out of this predicament as soon as she could. Mabel trudged forth to her destination with a sullen gait and gaze set on the floor.

But fate had other plans in store for her.

“Hey, you!” a voice she instantly recognised called. Mabel looked up in surprise, only to see the one who was pointing at her aggressor. “Don’t mess with my sister.”

Right. She and Dipper, if not homerooms, did share adjacent classrooms first period that day - and now was the worst time for that fact to resurface. She was fine with walking away and just ignoring Damien's backhanded comments; but Damien and her brother had history, and Mabel knew Dipper couldn’t just abide by her willingness to ignore those verbal attacks - not to mention that Mabel didn’t want to see him getting into an altercation because of her and over something so small.

Her brother approached Damien, soon reaching her as well.

“Dipper…”

“Mabel. Don’t.” He brushed past her.

Damien rolled his eyes. “Yeah, what ya gon’ do, short stuff?” He formed a smug grin. “We’ve been over this five years already: you can’t intimidate anyone even if you tried. That’s why ya always gotta stay down on the ground when I beat ya, remember?”

Dipper snarled. “Listen, Damien. I don’t give a crap if you bully me. Beat me to death if you freaking want.” He inched closer to the abuser, their narrowed gazes meeting head-on. “But if you touch my sister-”

“What? Just ‘cause she’s a girl I’m supposed to be scared?”

“No,” Dipper said, no inflection in his voice - only certainty. “You should be scared because she’s _my_ sister.”

Mabel knew she had to intervene before the situation got out of hand. “Dipper, stop!” She tugged at her brother’s arm, but to no avail - he yanked it away, and the girl took a few paces back.

Damien chortled. “Well, if you think you’re so high and mighty, let’s go, dork.” He waved his servants away, and they all scurried in different directions. “Ten bucks say I can beat ya to a pulp without eve-”

Suddenly, Damien recoiled back and toppled to the ground, a yelp following his graceless tumble. Mabel, having noticed the cacophony of his fall, raced back to the scene and looked on in confusion; yet her disbelief was short-lived, for the girl immediately realised the reason as to why the ninth-grader had never finished his wholly threatening show of conceit: because no more words were necessary - Dipper had already thrown the first punch. And just like that, years of pent up confusion, mistrust, hurt, and rage all coalesced into one blow in the face of her twin’s tormentor.

It was on.

After having recuperated from the blow and the shock of the situation, Damien instantly lunged at Dipper, clearly bent on inflicting much more hurt than what he had received from the boy. Without even a moment’s hesitation, punches were thrown, hairs were pulled, and every dirty trick from the book was pulled out; there were no rules in this fight, only limits to savagery. All the while, Mabel desperately tried to separate the two boys from their scuffle. This wasn’t happening, she thought; her brother wasn’t about to take the bullet for her and get into trouble right at the end of the school year. She couldn’t allow that - but there was little time left to cease, let alone cover up the fight. Much to her worry, Trevor was far more physically adept than her and she couldn’t pull him out from the brawl nor reach her brother. A small group soon gathered to spectate the fight, pushing Mabel out of the centre and effectively making it impossible for her to intervene. She tried to push through, almost clawing at the other students, but it was a folly endeavour.

Then, at the heat of the moment, Mabel saw a bruised Dipper throw one decisive left hook (that would’ve really made their great-uncle proud) which nearly _shattered_ Damien’s nose and sent him trembling backwards. Blood seeped from both orifices and stained the white floor.

For a moment, Mabel witnessed her brother’s shoulders slump and posture relax, clearly feeling fight as a finished one.

But Damien got up.

And that's when things went from bad to unspeakably worse, a horrible feeling birthing itself in the pit of the girl’s stomach. Mabel had only one option left, and she just hoped Dipper would forgive her for it.

* * *

There was blood - way too much blood - staining the floor; it was like a crimson veil draped over the white, ceramic plates in the corridor. A tumultuous chorus sang in the air, droning out all manner of speech; the hug of said chorus was tightening around Dipper. He could feel their touch, their awful presence. There was no escape; not now, not here. And just when he thought it was all over - that he had finally won - his opponent _somehow_ got back up on his feet.

For a split second, Dipper had managed to note something with a white glisten to it on the ground - Damien’s tooth, perhaps (his vision was so blurry that he couldn’t really be sure). A pang of incredulity birthed itself at the prospect of whether he was truly that vicious in his attacks - so much as to break a tooth - but he gulped it down. Dipper’s own teeth hurt badly and he could tell his muscles had reached their limit; his right eye was jarringly sore, and he could sense the iron taste of blood from his swollen lip. Neither was a pleasurable sensation, but only for a moment was Dipper able to see and feel all this amid the chorus; only for a moment did the boy receive the slightest reprieve during the apex of the fight; only for a moment did he feel... calm.

And then it all came back.

Damien spat on the floor, a mix of saliva tainted with a velvet hue (and even some phlegm) exiting from his mouth. “A’ight, break time’s up, dork!”

He charged at the teen, a powerful cry following his rush. Dipper narrowly avoided his tackle by dashing to the right, causing Damien to veer into the crowd; their collective effort brought Dipper’s opponent back to the fighting ring.

Dipper clenched his fists, bringing them up in front of his face. “Brawn’s all you have, Damien. You need a little brain to fight too!” 

The ninth-grader growled. “I’ll show ya brains!”

Like a vicious bull, Damien readied himself, snarling viciously at his matador. A few seconds passed before he rushed head-on against his adversary, a scathing vengeance in his eyes.

Dipper was ready: he would take him on, he would cripple him if he had to, but he would bring him down - for everyone who had fallen victim to that tumor on society, for all those times his pained cries had fallen on deaf ears, for him to be finally rid of the terrible sense of inferiority and weakness which he had drilled in his mind.

And for Mabel.

In that real, singular moment, nothing else mattered except that final stand. Time became a fleeting notion in the mind of the teen; there was no blood, there was no rapturous chorus, there were no outside influences - just him and Damien, at the end of it all.

But before he could finish it for good, Dipper felt the heavy touch of an arm force him back, away from the climax of the altercation. Just like that, somehow, he knew it was all over.

“Alright, cut it out!” a gruff voice ordered, its source having gotten between the two. “What’s the meaning of this?!”

Dipper, having been anchored back to reality, looked up, squinting his eyes in pain from the bright lights above. He could make out but the most vivid features of the figure before him, yet that was plenty enough - to his horror, the arbiter in their conflict was none other than Mr French.

“This stupid little runt threw a fist at me!” Damien said, wiping blood away from his nose and lurching towards Dipper. Of course, he was successfully availed by Mr French; he still continued writhing, yelling, “Let me at’im!”

“Enough!” the teacher ordered, leaving both instigators at a standstill. “You’re both coming with me to the Principal’s office!” Mr French gripped the two by their wrists (which was not a surprising feat for a man of his stature) and forced them before him. “The rest of you, get to class!”

At Mr French’s behest, the crowd cleared out and made way for him and his entourage to navigate to where the issue would be resolved. Everyone dispersed in an effort to attend to their classes and seemingly vanished just like that - everyone except Mabel, who stood next to one of the lockers and the bloodied floor, bag on the ground.

Dipper shared one last look with his twin and he could see the welled tears in her eyes - hers was no doubt a sadness born from witnessing his distressing countenance. Admittedly, he felt bad about having caused so much hurt to Mabel, but there was nothing else that could’ve been done - there was no peaceful resolution to their conflict, and it was a long time coming either way. Or so Dipper believed.

While they trailed ahead of Mr French in silence and even when they reached the Principal’s office, Dipper never thought about the prudence of his decision or about the consequences which were now about to befall him. 

Because he knew it was all worth it.

* * *

The bus ride home was silent. Many a classmate glanced at Dipper with a bemusement born from his injuries, but he himself had clearly been far too agitated and tired to vent out his thoughts - at least in the reaches of the school bus. Mabel kindly deflected any inquiries from their mutual friends with a plea to be left alone. They obliged and the Pines twins were simply left in a dull void, disconnected from anyone but themselves.

They had their fill of excitement either way, especially after the fallout of the conflict emerged.

Following the fight, a distressed Mabel begrudgingly attended English class, her mind occupied with constant fear and a million horrible scenarios in lieu of daydreams regarding Gravity Falls. During lunch, the twins exchanged a few words and a slightly bandaged Dipper told her he’d be back home late due to being given detention. Reaching the conclusion of the school day, Mabel diligently waited outside school grounds for her twin (despite having been explicitly instructed by him not to do as such). She noted the surprised expression Dipper bore when he left the classroom and saw her; even with said surprise guiding his attitude, he didn’t question her presence and simply reconvened with her. On the way to the bus stop, Dipper had also made mention of his supposed two-day suspension - a punishment which was thankfully availed by the administration when they brought into consideration his previous track record of malfeasance; or a lack thereof.

They really didn’t talk about anything else except that. Now, they were on their way home.

The girl glanced over to her twin - he was already fast asleep, arms on knees and head leaning on the stained glass window. She covered the exhausted boy with the vest he had stashed in his backpack, hoping it would provide some comfort in the frigid Summer evenings (and void of heating buses). They were lucky both of their parents had called her to relay they would be working overtime and ask why Dipper hadn’t been answering his phone; it took some guts for Mabel to twist the reason for her brother’s reticence, but she knew she had done enough damage already and their parents didn’t need to be informed of what had transpired immediately.

The two just needed a good rest when they got home.

But despite Mabel’s own weariness, her thoughts still dwelled on what had happened - and more specifically, her role in it all.

Mabel had truly wanted to go and defend Dipper when he was taken away - she didn’t want to leave him alone, in the hands of the school faculty. The girl knew they hadn’t doled out justice in his favour and had let Damien run without reprimand, which greatly irked at her heart. But more than that, the dark cloud in Mabel’s mind kept nagging her about whether she did the right thing, given her role in the conflict had acted as its primary catalyst; it was an uncomfortable idea to think about. Was this where her cheerful mask led to? If she had just swallowed her curiosity, could she have gone unnoticed? How could she have allowed Dipper to throw himself into the fray like that?

For all that Mabel liked to believe she was, fallible was often not a trait she had assigned herself; but there was that one grim reality which Mabel eventually came to realise truly affirmed that fatal flaw:

She had caused it all.

It was her fault.

* * *

Waking Dipper up was hard enough at first, and getting his disoriented self off the bus also proved a difficult feat for Mabel. They were subject to some peculiar glances again (considering her brother’s demented posture, that didn’t come as a surprise to the girl) but despite it all, the two managed to reach the house in a quiet, orderly fashion.

After dealing with all the necessary preliminaries, they stationed themselves in the confines of the bathroom and Mabel began setting aside the necessary instruments for Dipper’s recovery. Usually, she would be more upbeat and play into her persona of ‘Mabel, MD’ while donning a slightly oversized white jacket and rubber gloves. However, now Mabel simply felt horror-stricken after seeing the true extent of her brother’s ailments when he lifted his usual orange shirt, and the further guilt she felt from the entire sight deterred her from making light of the situation. She simply grabbed what was required and began the treatment.

Mabel started with his arms. “How you feeling, Dip?”

“Like I’ve been through Weirdmageddon again.” Mabel wiped the area around one of his wounds with a sterilized cloth doused in Rivanol. “Ow.”

“Sorry.”

“Man, we’ve done this so many times and it’s still a pain in the butt.”

Mabel laughed. “Yeah, well that’s fights for ya.” She put aside the cloth. “Stay still for a sec.” She grabbed the bag of ice she’d retrieved from the fridge and pressed it over Dipper’s black eye.

He seethed in response, but held the cold remedy nonetheless.

She smiled at her brother’s resolve, but that joy quickly faded as she realised there was still one more issue she had wanted to address. “Look, bro, I wanna thank you for stepping up for me - and I’m glad you stood up to Damien after so long.” She ran a hand over her hair. “But look at you now! You look like Grunkle Stan after dealing with the fifth will-they-won’t-they-buy tourist! I just don’t get it - why’d you do it?”

Dipper looked away, saying, “He had it coming.” 

“So what? I was just gonna ignore him anyway! So why’d you get all angry?”

“Because you’re my sister and that guy’s just been… an asshole for so long.” Their eyes met. “I mean, fine, I don’t care what he does to me. But I won’t let him belittle you.”

“Thanks... but I don’t deserve it,” she muttered.

“Why’d you think that?”

She frowned, uncertain whether to spill the truth. She didn’t want to pour salt on an already open wound of a horrible day, but it was now or a time when it would hurt her far more. “I… I called Mr French. It’s my fault.”

“What?”

“I know, I know, I know! I should never have done that and I’m sorry I let you get in so much trouble for nothing! I… I was just really scared, Dip.” She fumbled with the bandaid she held. “I got scared for you...”

“Mabel…” She looked up at him, expecting a torrent of vitriol to come her way. “Thank you.”

“Huh?”

Dipper chuckled weakly. “If you didn't stop the fight, I’d probably be dead meat by now. I'm sorry I let myself go like that, but when I saw how he talked about you, I just… slipped.” He smiled. “And you knew when to stop me. You did the right thing, Mabel.”

Mabel stared at the scarred face before her, utterly speechless. She didn’t know how to respond to her twin’s revelation - this wasn’t what she thought would happen; how did she _not_ get furiously yelled at and scolded for her actions?

How did she do the right thing? After everything - how?

She had no idea, and that made her heart swell even further. Mabel threw herself at her brother, a barrage of tears not being able to be held any longer in the cell of her emotions.

“Ow-ow!” Dipper yelped, jolting up and nearly dropping the bag of ice he held. “I think you’re crushing what few bones I haven’t already broken, Mabel!”

Mabel let him go. “Oh… oh, whoops. Sorry, bro.” She wiped her eyes. “Guess I… I got a bit overwhelmed.”

Dipper laughed. “Yeah, you can say that again.” He rubbed his arm. “And… you’re not the only one, Mabes.”

“W-what do you mean?”

The boy’s expression quickly shifted to a colder one, and he let out a pained sigh. Closing his eyes, he said, “Mabel, I hate this.”

“Hate what?”

“I hate you have to see me like this!” he finally confessed, clearly feeling strained and uncomfortable from having raised his voice. “This isn’t me. I don’t wanna fight and look like this every time I come home.” The boy gulped, and Mabel was almost at a loss for words. “I… I just wanna go back to when there was no Damien, no fights, and when I didn’t feel like I was broken all the time!” He cupped his face in his hands.

“Yeah... me too.”

Dipper remained silent, a seeming stiffness pervading even in his breathing.

“Believe me, there’s nothing I hate more than seeing you hurt, Dipper. It… it kills me every time you come home like that,” Mabel said, a slight crack in her voice. She gulped it away. “But it’s gonna be okay. I promise.” The girl put a hand on Dipper’s shoulder, and he lifted his gaze towards her. His glass eyes only made her own swell. “It’s hard being broken. But when you’re with someone you love, no matter what happens, you get to feel a little bit more whole in the end.”

Now Mabel truly did feel as if she’d done the right thing and saved her brother from the whirlpool of self-loathing he had veered his course towards. She never wanted to make a difference through fighting; that was never her means of resolution. Only through her pain did Dipper’s own come to light, and only after she brought it out was she able to remedy the damage it had done.

Dipper finally returned her embrace. In an instant, she felt his thin arms wrapping around her and his face sinking in her purple sweater. This time, Mabel didn’t let go and Dipper didn’t wince in any pain - they just stood there, together, Mabel gently stroking her twin’s hair as he let out all that confusion, mistrust, hurt, and rage not in the form of a vitriolic punch, but a destitute plea for help, and Dipper comforting her with affirmations that it wasn’t her fault and never was. There was nothing in any universe their great-uncle Stanford had talked about that Mabel would trade for those spectacular thirty seconds she shared with her twin. Nothing.

“I love you, Mabel. So, so much.”

“I love you too, Dipstick.”

Rebuilding from there on out was going to be hard. Really hard.

But they had each other.

And that meant it was bound to turn out okay no matter what.

* * *

Dipper had truly missed this: the sunset, the old wooden base, the lounge chair no one ever sat on, and the cooler filled to the brim with Pitt Colas. His mind went back to all those times he had shared with everyone closest to him (and even his own clone) on the roof of the Mystery Shack. They were all incredible times with people he loved, but Dipper simply felt a serene calm overcome him while he beheld the beauty of the town he cherished so much and was finally able to experience again.

Of course, the teen’s fight did have its splash away from school. After his fateful encounter, Dipper’s parents threatened him and his sister with nullifying their vacation to Gravity Falls as punishment, but the boy managed to assuage their snap decision through a series of factual objections (mainly good report cards and the possible ruination of their emotional stability). When the two had finally reunited with Stan and Ford earlier that day, the older men also took notice of Dipper’s more long-lasting injuries (mainly the black eye). The former uncle was already off to grab his guns by the time Dipper had explained what had happened, but the latter relative thankfully stopped his brother’s preposterous plan and told him to only ready a baseball bat for if they were to ever stop at Piedmont. Both generations shared in the delight of the questionable moral aspects of the plan, Mabel and Dipper really knowing how serious the two actually were in carrying out their schema.

Now, it was just Dipper sitting alone in the third most isolated place in the shack (next to the basement and Stan’s room, of course). After the second time around, Mabel realised her help in treating Dipper wasn’t of necessity and left him to attend to his injuries by himself. The teen had to admit he missed having someone to talk to while he dressed his wounds, yet that fact was almost always subverted after he was done with his duties. If not anything, Dipper’s fight with Damien only served to aid him - now Mabel knew how much he valued her help and she didn't blame herself for something that wasn't her fault (plus, he almost didn't need to say anything for those revelations to come to light).

Dipper even recalled how viciously he had tried to avoid the fight he had scheduled with Robbie the Summer prior out of a fear of tainting his trip with bad memories. He also remembered how trivial their feud really was and how Robbie, possibly like Damien as well, was just a confused teenager out with a spitefulness for those around him, and how Dipper himself was nothing short of a scared little wimp.

Yet the boy reined in his thoughts - that horrible chapter of his life was now over, and Dipper Pines was ready for whatever came next.

Suddenly, he heard a very special person’s unique high-pitched voice reverberating through the shack, saying, “Dipper! Dipper, where are you? Soos is about to try on his special tux and I know you don’t wanna miss it!”

And then Dipper remembered what that next was and why it all mattered - why it was so damn good to finally be free. Now, he could finally be a kid again: have fun with his friends, goof around with his sister, endlessly pursue a romantic interest, tell his family he stood up for himself, and not be scared of going back - all because he was free and in control again.

Smiling, he took one last glance at the sunset before him and went down the stairs to join the others. The best part was that he wasn’t even scared at all.

Because no bully would ever get to break the Pines twins again. 

Dipper would make sure of it.


End file.
